Dear Vancouver

Dan Acher’s installation “Borealis” casts a magical glow over the city of Vancouver during the Lumière Festival.

Dear Vancouver,

It’s nice to see you again.

How have you been after all this time?

We first met back in 2000. I knew nothing about you then.

We grew close over time. You witnessed my growth and transformation throughout my adolescence. My memory may be as fleeting as a goldfish’s, so my impressions of you and the details of your companionship are somewhat hazy. Yet, I do recall your dryness and coldness. I especially loved how the changing colours of your maple leaves signaled the arrival of autumn, and I can’t forget the gentle kiss of winter snow on my hair and eyelashes.

You’ve always been a stoic presence for me — as if nothing matters except the here and now.

Seeing you again after a decade, I find your dryness and coldness unchanged. Your leaves still transform from green to pumpkin hues, signaling autumn’s return. You remain the same in many ways — but I’ve changed since we last met.

Most of the people I once knew have left you, just as I did. Even the beluga whales at the Vancouver Aquarium are no longer here. I was sad to learn that Aurora and Nala had passed away. I wish I could’ve been here to say goodbye and thank them for accompanying me during difficult times.

I couldn’t help but question: why is it that everyone — even beluga whales — comes and goes?

I used to think you were dull — back then, I was always searching for fun and excitement. Now, I see the harmony in your balance.

I used to think you were stagnant — back then, I craved for change. Now, I appreciate your consistency, a rare quality in today’s ever-shifting world.

I used to think you lacked life — back then, I was focused on building a better and more fulfilled life. Now, I admire your focus and envy your closeness to nature — something I deeply miss in the concrete jungle.

Someone once said, “Circumstances don’t matter; your perspective does.” It’s funny how I, once reluctant to revisit you, now see you in a different light. Am I getting older, or just wiser?

There’s so much about you that I’m grateful for.

Your abundance of nature — something I once took for granted and even associated with boredom — now grounds me when I gaze at your towering trees.

Stepping on your rain-soaked autumn leaves feels more fulfilling than walking down the carpeted aisles of a flight. Though I must admit, I’m still not used to the freezing wind that scratches my cheeks like frozen cotton-candy.

I like how passengers make it a habit to thank the bus drivers as they hop off — I can feel the gratitude coming from the bottom of their hearts.

I appreciate how easy it is to meet people from places like Iran, India, Pakistan, and Brazil. Yet, I can’t help but wonder if they feel a true sense of belonging as they try to build homes here.

As these thoughts swirl in my mind, I wonder if I’m seeing you through rose-coloured lenses, like people do with their lovers. Or perhaps I’m under the spell of ‘Borealis’ — Dan Acher’s mesmerising installation, casting a magical glow over the city like a protective force field from a science-fiction film, shielding you from harm.

I also wonder if any of the sentiments I have now — these feelings I have while I’m with you — would change if I stayed just a little longer.

With love,
S